


A Place in Your Home

by djcoldhands



Category: An Old Fashioned Girl - Louisa May Alcott
Genre: F/F, becky focused, other characters will also show up eventually, takes place after george and bess get married, these are my emotional support nineteeth century gays
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-24
Updated: 2020-07-11
Packaged: 2021-02-28 02:28:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22886320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/djcoldhands/pseuds/djcoldhands
Summary: It's officially Spring, and Bess and George are married. Becky's just not sure how she fits into all this.
Relationships: Lizzie Small/George, Rebecca Jeffrey/Lizzie Small
Kudos: 2





	1. Arrival

The ride to their new house had been awkward, to say the least. Becky sat on one side of the carriage while the newlyweds sat on the other. She was careful to keep her expression blank as she looked out the window at the passing landscape. It was times like these where she wished she’d been blessed with the gift of painting rather than sculpting. If only she could capture the scenery surrounding her creations rather than letting them stand alone... Sadly, she was no good with a brush. Sketching was easy enough and often necessary for her craft, but painting always seemed to escape her.

“I think you’ll love the house,” George said, hands holding onto those of his wife. “There’s a lot of potential in it. It’s a little old, but try to keep an open mind. ”

From how he had described it before, Becky had been under the impression that it was a home people lived in recently rather than something that needed to have work done on it. As they arrived at the house, though, it became apparent that it was the latter. The garden out front was overgrown, vines and bushes pressed tightly against the side of the house. The steps walking up to the porch crumbled to pieces so much that Becky feared they would give out if she placed her weight on them. They hadn’t even gone inside before she decided she hated it.

Bess, however, had other ideas. Her eyes shone with admiration—whether for her husband or their new home, Becky didn’t know. “It’s certainly something, isn’t it?”

Becky tried her best not to scoff, she really did. Her efforts were unsuccessful. “Yes. I suppose it is.”

That had been the first time she’d spoken since they departed from their room in Miss Mills’ house. Their room there had been small and messy, despite their best efforts to clean it. Neither engraving nor sculpting were clean work. Becky had constantly been sweeping up little metal shards and shavings, while Bess had constantly been wiping clay from various surfaces. It was cramped, but it was home.

Throughout the whole ride, George and Bess had been speaking in low voices. They hadn’t even tried to include her in the conversation. Even if Becky hadn’t been the most welcoming and pleasant to George, he didn’t have to act the same. Shouldn’t he try to be the bigger man here?

George exited the carriage first. He took Bess by the hand, helping her step down. When he tried to do the same to Becky, she ignored him, opting to jump down on her own. She did allow Bess to take her hand, however.

The smile Bess offered was too bright not to return. “Come. Why don’t we take a look around?”

The house was furnished inside, albeit with out-of-date and unfashionable items that Becky found oddly charming. The sheets over everything made it clear that nobody had lived there in quite some time. Under her breath, Bess mumbled something about ghosts and a novel she had been recommended by one of the ladies in George’s social circle.

Upstairs, there were a multitude of rooms to choose from. Bess and George would have the master room, obviously. Becky just had to decide on which room would be best for her work. Taking windows and lighting into account, she decided on a room by the stairs, far away from the newlyweds. There was, of course, no other reason other than her work that she considered.

Becky wasn’t sure how she found herself lying on her bed with Bess. One of them must have said something about wondering whether the furniture was comfortable or not. As for who started it, Becky didn’t know. She did know that Bess’s face was close enough to hers that she could see the green flecks in her big, blue eyes. Becky’s eyes flicked down to look at Bess’s lips. They’d kissed a handful of times before, each time imprinted clearly in Becky’s brain. Late at night, she was sometimes swept up by the urge to sculpt. She often found herself beginning to mold Bess’s face out of clay, only to demolish it when it didn’t come out just the way she wished.

“Lizzie? Miss Jeffrey? Where did you ladies run off to?”

Becky let out a groan at the sound of George’s voice. She released her hold on Bess’s hand, allowing the smaller girl to stand up and straighten herself out. They had just arrived and already George was interrupting their alone time.

“Up here!” Bess called down to him.

George walked into the room, arms loaded with suitcases. As soon as he was through the door, he placed everything on the floor. He flashed a charming smile to Bess. “Getting settled in already, are we?”

“We were choosing rooms. Ours is on the other end of the hall.”

“Nice, isn’t it?”

Bess gave one of her cheerful smiles, grabbing onto one of his arms as if she hadn’t been about to kiss her best friend before her  _ husband _ had interrupted them. If Becky hadn’t been annoyed at the intrusion, she would have found it comical. For as long as they’d known each other, Bess had been better at pretending. She may have been an engraver, but Becky had a firm belief her true skill was acting.

While the lovebirds carried on a conversation, Becky set about unpacking her things. There was a desk near a window that would do nicely as a work-space. She set her bag of tools there, along with her copious amounts of clay. It wasn’t the best medium to work with, but there was something about being able to dig into her work with her bare hands that Becky found endearing. Besides, clay was cheaper than marble.

“What do you think, Miss Jeffrey?”

Becky was so startled by the sudden interruption that she nearly knocked her bag of tools over. Quickly collecting herself, she turned towards George and Bess. Just seeing them together, standing so close to one another, sent a wave of nausea washing over her.

“Wasn’t listening.”

George’s smile faltered slightly. “We were discussing hiring a housekeeper. It wouldn’t do to have either of you cleaning and working. I said we could bring over one from my family’s home. Bess thinks we should hire someone from the city. Seeing as you also live here, you’ll be the tiebreaker.”

Truthfully, Becky didn’t care whether or not they got a housekeeper. She and Bess had cleaned after themselves when they had lived alone together. What difference did it make now that they were living with George? Something Polly had told her once popped into her head. It was something about her Winter with the Shaw family. Nobody in rich houses did much work at all, much less the women. Polly had hated it but that was neither here nor there.

Bess and George looked at her expectantly. They wanted an answer. It was odd, really. This wasn’t a very big decision to make. Either way, they would have a housekeeper. If they were dissatisfied, there was no reason for them to keep her. All they had to do was fire her and get another one. Then, it dawned on Becky. This was their attempt at making her feel included.

Finally, she answered. “Let’s get one from the city. Hire someone who really needs it.”

Bess was pleased with this; George didn’t seem to mind. They talked to her for a bit longer about the house and the land around it. Becky didn’t find the conversation very compelling, so she was glad when the couple retired to their room.

Becky closed the door after them with a sigh of relief. Finally, she was alone.


	2. Beginnings of the Garden

The garden was in serious disrepair. Becky had always had the exact opposite of a green thumb, but Bess had convinced her they should take this on as a project together. That was how she found herself in an old, clay-stained dress, pulling the tallest vines off the house. Below her, Bess was crouched low, pulling up weeds and tossing them far from the garden. With each weed, a clump of dirt came up with it. Even without looking, Becky could confidently say it would be unlikely that either of their shoes would ever be clean again.

“Fun, isn’t it?” Bess asked.

Becky didn’t look down to check whether or not she was smiling. She could hear it in Bess’s voice. A short grunt was all the reply she gave.

“I think a flower garden would do nicely, something to brighten up the place.”

“Do you know anything about growing flowers?”

“Not in the slightest!”

Becky chuckled at that. She continued her work silently.

Hard work had a charm of its own. Living in a large house with a staff that would arrive shortly could change neither of them. At heart, both girls were not meant for the idle life. What use is a life you spend wasting away doing nothing? Their mutual friend, Polly, often gave speeches to the fine ladies she taught music to—though it was unlikely any of them stuck for more than a moment or two.

“Things have turned out well for us. We’ve certainly come a long way, don’t you think?” At the small nod she received, Bess continued. “George is nice enough. He’s good to me and doesn’t mind our arrangement.”

“He doesn’t know the half of it.”

“I suppose that’s true. We could tell him, if you’d rather.”

Becky paused, frowning. She looked down to see a grinning face looking up at her. “I’d rather we didn’t risk our social standing as well as our lives on something like that.”

“You don’t believe it’s worth it?”

“Absolutely not.”

“I, for one, think George would be very understanding of our partnership.”

“Using Polly’s words, I see.”

Bess smiled. “She certainly has a way with words.”

Becky gave a shrug with one shoulder. “She’s alright.”

“I’ll tell her you said that next time we meet her.”

She groaned. “Don’t.”

“Use your manners.”

Becky ground her teeth together. “Please. Don’t.”

“I suppose I could let this go. Just this once.”

Preparing for the wedding had meant that Bess and Becky had very little time to visit their friends. Becky could have gone if it wasn’t for Bess insisting on dragging her along. The last time either of them had seen their friends was the wedding. Before that, it had been weeks.

Polly and Fanny were likely just fine on their own. They were nearly as close as Bess and Becky were, although their relationship was strictly platonic compared to… whatever it was she had with Bess. Kate was really who she worried over. The girl tended to get swept up in sudden currents of inspiration. Besides that, she had gained quite a following as of late. There was no telling how Kate felt about her newfound fame.

“We should invite the girls over sometime.”

Bess made a noise of agreement, wiping sweat off her forehead with the back of her hand. “Let’s wash up and send a letter.”

Becky pushed her supplies to the side. She took a seat at the desk in her room with a pen and paper. Bess leaned over her shoulder, dictating the words she should write.

“Dearest Polly—although we both know that’s a lie.” To punctuate her words, Bess pecked her dearest on the cheek.

A smirk pulled at the corners of Becky’s mouth. “I assume you don’t want me to add that last part in the greeting.”

Bess chose to ignore that. “As it’s been weeks since we’ve had a proper meeting, Rebecca and I would like to have you over for lunch on Saturday. If that happens to coincide with one of your classes, we would be willing to reschedule for Sunday—Monday at the latest. We have two requests of you. The first is to bring that tea you always make as it’s the best I’ve ever had. The second is to relay this message to the other girls.”

“Slow down,” Becky’s tone was scolding, despite the playful smile on her face. “I can’t write that fast.”

“Move over, then! I’ll write it.”

“I would let you if your handwriting was legible.”

“For your sake, I’m going to ignore that.” Bess cleared her throat in order to return to her dictation. “We look forward to your visit, if it happens that everyone is free.”

Bess leaned further over the back of the chair to sign her name. A soft breath ghosted over the skin on Becky’s neck, making her shiver. Her senses were flooded with the floral scent of the perfume Bess was in the habit of wearing now. It should have been a pleasant feeling if it wasn’t for the reminder that she was only wearing the perfume for her _husband._ __ Just the thought of George put her in a foul mood.

Becky’s smile fell from her face. She stood from her desk. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to get changed for lunch.”

“Is there a problem?” Bess asked, frowning.

Her only answer was a barely audible scoff. “Not one you could solve.”

“You underestimate me.”

“I assure you, I estimate you just enough. If there’s anyone that knows the full extent of your capabilities, it’s me.”

“Then you should know that I have the ability to improve your mood.”

“Not this one, I’m afraid.”

“Rebecca,” Bess said. It was only when she was truly serious that she addressed her as that. She clasped Becky’s hands in her own. “There’s no need to be upset with George. I know that’s truly why you’re mad.”

Becky looked away. She’d been caught, of course. Bess was always so perceptive of the changes in her mood.

“You pretend to be upset with me, when really it’s George. He’s a good man, you know.”

“As good as any other man, I suppose.”

At that, Bess let out a loud, unladylike laugh that she reserved for when she was away from her husband. Appearances had to be kept up, of course, if she were to pass for a civil lady. Becky assumed George was like every other man that had attempted to court Bess. He was only interested in her beauty, not the woman behind it.

“I’m upset because…” Becky trailed off. “You and George could have a happy life together. He can do more for you than I could ever.”

“But he could never give me you.”

“You can’t have the both of us.”

“Says who?”

She had always been the dreamer between them. While Becky preferred to think logically and realistically, Bess often brought up fanciful dreams and hopes that could never work out. She and Becky were just another of those ideas she had.

Becky sighed. “It simply will not work.”

Bess kissed the backs of Becky’s hands with a soft smile. “I’m under the firm belief that you and I can make anything work.”

The expression Bess gave her was a gentle, familiar one. It was the same look she had when they had first met. Miss Mills had shown Becky to her room the day before Bess arrived. It was a bigger place than Becky had expected and told Miss Mills as such. She requested a roommate, someone to share the space with, to which Miss Mills replied that she knew just the girl. A few days later, Bess arrived with a luggage bag and that gentle smile of hers. Her hand was so delicate when Becky shook it that she feared she would break it. If there had ever been love at first sight, that had been it.

Becky steadied her gaze and looked into Bess’s eyes, her features set in a serious look. “Do you love him?” she asked softly, voice coming out so much smaller than she intended.

“Would that change anything?” Bess countered.

She bit her tongue to keep herself from saying a clear  _ yes. _ Did it matter? Regardless of reasons, Bess was married to George. It was the simple fact of the matter. Truly, did it matter? Becky wasn’t entirely sure. Would having Bess be in an unhappy marriage make her feel better about being all but swept aside? Or would it lessen the blow to see Bess happy and smiling alongside that dreadful man?

Becky’s nose wrinkled. She wasn’t quite sure what it was about George that left a bad taste in her mouth. Something about him, though, felt oddly unsavory. He treated her and Bess well enough, but he simply couldn’t be trusted.

“Have I ever told you I like watching you think?”

A look of confusion passed over Becky’s face, a simple furrowing of brows and a subtle change in her eyes.

Sure enough, Bess’s eyes were trained on her, studying her every move. She cracked a smile, relieving all the tension that had previously filled the room. “George thinks you to be inexpressive. You keep your emotions in your eyes, you know.”

At that, Becky’s eyes darted to focus on the window. Before she knew it, Bess had moved in close to her.

“I have a request of you.” Bess cupped Becky’s cheek, turning her head so they looked into each other’s eyes. “Give George a chance. I’ve asked the same of him. I’d like for you to get along together.”

Really, how was Becky meant to refuse that?


End file.
